Underdog
by IAmSherlocked2000
Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione. That's how the trio are known. Harry Potter gets all the fame and Ron's had enough of it. But could he bring himself to do the unthinkable? Please read comment and favourite. xx


Ron sifted through the various items in his suitcase, whilst sat by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. The suitcase was burgundy; it matched his newly knitted jumper. It was nice.

Ron was leaving Hogwarts. Leaving it for good. He was offered by Professor McGonagall a job as defence against the dark arts teacher at the school, but he graciously refused. He'd really had enough of Hogwarts. He wanted to start a real life, get settled with Hermione and be – what was by wizard standards – normal.

Of course, after the Battle of Hogwarts, nothing could really go back to normal. Lives had been lost, people had been torn apart. It was truly, truly brutal. But, whatever the cost, it was all over now. The war had been won, Voldemort had lost.

Ron's absent minded daydreaming was cut short as he felt a small, but sharp tweak of his pain in his left forefinger. He pulled his hand out grasping the object of offence. It was a card. It was obviously homemade, due to the fact the letters that spelt out the word 'CONGRATULATIONS' were sown to the paper in a lopsided fashion. Now, he knew only one person who would have enough time on their hands to create a card, his mother: Molly Weasley.

He opened the card and a flimsy piece of paper fluttered out. A closer glance revealed that it was a scrap from the main story of The Daily Prophet. 'POTTER SAVES THE DAY' it stated in block capitals. It had been the headline for several weeks now. It was accompanied by a picture of Harry Potter smiling and laughing and a small piece of text.

After scanning through the text, Ron found that, not-so-surprisingly, it was all about Harry's amazing feat of defeating Lord Voldemort. Nowhere in the text did it mention the help he got from Ron and Hermione, not to mention the countless Hogwarts students who had died and been scarred – physically and mentally. It was all about the oh-so-fabulous Mr Potter. A grimace had spread over Ron's face.

He didn't even need to read the card to know what it was about. His whole family was congratulating Harry, and they seemed to have completely forgotten about the _real _member of their family.

This card had obviously been put in Ron's bag by accident. Or had it been put there on purpose? Maybe someone was trying to tell him something.

Suddenly, a wave of realisation washed over Ron. Now, it could've have been the blistering heat from the raging fire in the hearth, but Ron began to find himself snarling in rage. His fists clenched and his jaw tightened.

This was it; this was Harry's power play. It had been all this time. He was just using Ron and Hermione as his unpaid, unnoticed interns. They did his bidding, he got his fame. Of course, he was the one who had actually killed the Dark Lord, but not without Ron's help.

And, yeah, sometimes the trio had been mentioned. But, that was only as Harry, Ron and Hermione. Why couldn't it have been Ron, Harry and Hermione; or Hermione, Ron and Harry. The more Ron thought about it, the more the unexplained anger grew inside him.

Then, an idea spark in the redhead's brain. Why didn't he just kill Harry? It's not like he would be expecting it. The initial threat was gone, what could there possibly be left to be scared of?

Ron's eyes narrowed. Yes, yes he would do it. He would kill the famous Harry Potter. Then he would get worldwide fame. Not like he expecting but, still, fame nonetheless.

He leant to his left and picked up his wand. He twirled it in his fingers. Soon, this flimsy wand that had broken so many times before, would be the item to kill the boy who lived.

_The boy who lived, come to die._

He walked slowly to the boy's dormitory and told himself to keep calm. Adrenaline was building up inside him and he fought to keep the excitement down. Butterflies were flying manically in his stomach and his heart was beating at an extraordinarily fast pace.

Ron put a hand on the heavy wooden door of the dormitory and pushed. It opened without a sound. Harry was lying on his bed with his eyes closed. He napped a lot these days, supposedly to collect the lost thoughts that had escaped his slightly scrambled mind.

Ron coughed quietly and Harry slowly opened his eyes. He smiled and grabbed his glasses from a nearby table, putting them on with such efficiency. "Hello Ron." He said joyfully. "Finished packing then?"

_The boy who lived, come to die._

_**Hello readers! This is my second short fic so far. Baby I'm on a roll! Well, expect more from me soon and read, comment and favourite. Bysie byes! XD **_

_**xxXXxxXXxx**_


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